


Day 17: Blood

by SaiTheWriter



Series: Turkstober2020 [17]
Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Beating, Electricity, Gen, M/M, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaiTheWriter/pseuds/SaiTheWriter
Summary: Sometimes the tables are turned, and ya gotta be prepared for that. Also gotta have reliable back up.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII)
Series: Turkstober2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957075
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42
Collections: Turkstober 2020





	Day 17: Blood

Plip.

This time his gaze remained focused as the splash of red slid down his nose, trembling while it gathered before dropping the few feet to the ground. Plip. Right into the gathering puddle. Head wounds, they bled well. It was no new knowledge to his mind. He’d learned that many years ago. Especially when you try to struggle for a better position and the clot scrapes free.

The sound of a bolt dragged his attention away from the glistening floor, eyes shifting up when the door finally swung free. It wasn’t the swankiest of cells, but he’d had worse, just like he’d had better stays. “Gonna hafta knock your turn down service last night, yo.” He croaked as the man closed the door behind him. “Didn’t even get a mi-” A sunburst skittered across his vision as the backhand slammed into his face, made all the more brutal by the odd gilded gauntlets he wore. For a moment he spun as the chains above took the full brunt of his weight, his face momentarily dismissing the ache in his arms and the screaming agony his raw wrists protested with. Eventually he spat out a new gobbet of blood and grinned, teeth painted faintly red. “What, offended my review will fuck with your 5 star rep? Doubtful.”

Yesterday were the questions. The reverse psychology, the cajoling. Then the initial beatdown. Another break for questions. More snark. By now this was all song and dance. Stay still, snark, and wait for rescue, that was his motto, when there was a doozy of a botch. Only when getting his ass out wasn’t something he could go for. The gas they’d used at the facility before he woke to find himself here, it left holes in his escape plan. The cuffs were too tight, where he was no stranger to breaking his own wrist or dislocating a couple of fingers to escape, it was somewhat impossible this time. All that was left was waiting for a time to strike, or his pick up. There was no third option. Turks didn’t snitch, no matter the cause and to their dying breath, there was no talking.

What there was? A tracking chip in his neck, just near his spine. Guaranteed to be the thing that would eventually bring his partner or someone else to his rescue. While he was pissed he’d lost his intel drive when they’d knocked him out, he was still holding enough information from his own snooping to bring them down. So long as he was picked up soon.

Another jarring hit tugged a cry from him this time, the blow setting a ringing in his ears as the chains swayed under his weight. Idly he compared himself to one of those tetherball games and a choked laugh slid past his lips. Oh, they didn’t like that one one bit. Another rained down, shutting him up with a choked grunt while his sides throbbed. They continued a fair bit, the solid sounds peppering his hearing while he squirmed and panted out his pain. Noise wasn’t exactly forbidden from him, but it was a delicate balance. Keep them wanting, yeah? Too much and they get tired of it, too little and they get...creative with trying to get more. 

It continued on as it had the day before, peppered in between with sneering questions they barely paused for in between. Not like it mattered, they’d judged the rumors true yesterday, and decided playing with him with some holed up aggression was far more rewarding. Over and over the solid sensation of gloves hitting his skin burst along his body until it began to blur. To numb. His head barely rose with each hit until he sagged fully, letting his keeper continue to pummel him like a piece of hanging meat.

At last, the punches died down. He groaned audibly when a boot nudged him, good eye half open and staring distantly at the floor. There was a lulled conversation as someone passed the cell, absurdly friendly for the atmosphere, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done the same before. A few seconds of reprieve was all he had before the sound of a familiar crackle rent the air.

He screamed as it made contact, throat constricting to the point that he held that note as he convulsed under his own weapon’s attack. The Turk reeled in pain as his body jerked about on its own, gagging on a lack of breath halfway through until he pulled it away. There was no time to recover, for the agony that came from the physical blow itself decided to say hello, starting from the impact just below his knee and rolling along in waves. Distantly his thoughts came forward, ridiculing the blow for an amateur torturer. Who put that much weight into a blow on the second day? Really? No wonder they were low on people.

Once his wits came back, his mouth opened to berate them, curse them, do fucking something, ending in a howl when another electrified blow landed, softer yet into the tender flesh of his stomach. The chains creaked mightily as he fell back, slack and unable to keep his weight from tugging on his raw wrists. That was what he truly remembered as he jerked and spun in those chains. The lazy sway of the ground as he moved in a wobbling pace. It was not unlike when you laid belly down in a swing and let it rock you forward and back in a gentle motion. 

The ground rocked as a muffled sound reverberated from far along in wherever they were. “Oh shit.” Reno slurred, tilting his head up at last, gaze on his captor as the man peered out from the cell. “You’re in trouuuble.” The sing song wasn’t as effective as it could have been without his slurring, but the man seemed to get the message.

“The fuck is that?” 

“Might wanna start running, whole place is about to come down.” His head felt so heavy. Why was it so heavy? Licking his lips, Reno tasted copper, wrinkling his nose at the sensation. Had he bitten one? Probably. Shocks made you do some weird shit. “Mean business...when we break out the explosives.”

He didn’t get to see the widening look of horror, no. Craig skittered out before he could even finish his last echo of his previous words, leaving him to creak in the hold. Letting his head droop down for a brief rest, Reno focused on catching his breath. He doubted they’d blow the place if they bothered tracing him here. Likely the plan was an extraction, but given their lack of manpower as he’d found out in his initial snooping and reported before going dark, there was no doubt in his mind they’d decided to sweep and contain.

For a while he listened as steps pounded the opposite way from the cells, fighting faint to his addled mind with no true idea of where they might be. Once it was obvious no one was nearby, he started the painstaking task of trying to slip free. The night previous he’d had no luck, and while he knew help was here, it wasn’t in his ability to just sit and wait for rescue. 

Grunting with the effort, Reno shifted his arms, sliding slightly in the sticky mess on the floor when he tried to force weight onto his legs. Agony lit up his side as he promptly fell back to swinging, putting more on his aching arms and leaving his choking on a noise that was not a fucking whimper. “Fuck.” He coughed out while he sagged again, eye watering. Roger that, leg was probably fractured. 

“Reno.” The sound came from far and near at once. If these fucking chains didn’t stop spinning swear to fuck. Gods be damned, that’s a voice he loved to hear, especially right then.

“Par’ner.” The redhead greeted, head wobbling up as if it took great effort. “Startin’ the party without me.” It dragged from his throat, but damned if his partner wasn’t a sight to behold. The man broke from the door before he’d even finished calling his name, making his way to the middle and reaching up to stop the slow sway. His gaze remained on the cuffs while gently tilting them, lips thin at finding no loophole. 

Stepping away meant going through the desk and implements nearby, but that didn’t mean he was gone long. Reno’s thoughts were a bit less muddled now that he’d had a moment to recover, spitting out a gobbet of blood and inching weight onto his leg again with a panted noise.

“Lean on me.” Rude requested, reaching around him to pull the redhead just that much closer while he worked on his cuffs. 

“Everyone dead?” Reno hummed while the man worked, wondering about the man with his fuckin’ rod.

“No, grabbed one for questioning.” The rumble of his voice sounded close while he leaned against his chest, his own voice tilting up in relief when the second cuff came free.

“He have my rod?”

Rude snorted, tapping his side with a covered knuckle and offering up the sound of muffled metal on metal. Ah, safe and sound. “Can you walk?”

No. Offering his best smile, Reno shifted on his good foot, leaning into him. “Well enough, let’s get outta here. Asshole out there an’ I gotta catch u-” Gravity lifted away and he screeched, raw throat be fucked. “I swear to Shiva’s tits if you don’ fuggin’ let me down right the fuck now.” Half of it was thick and near hard to understand, but Rude was undeterred, keeping him close while he tilted to slip sideways through the doorway.

His gaze flickered down beneath his shades, hand firm but surprisingly gentle as he kept him close. “We need to set your leg before it’s broken completely, partner. We took too long to find you.” Either he was woozy from getting fried, or that was serious guilt in his voice. Fuck it, why not both.

That right there? That could make him subside. With a low hiss, Reno shifted in that cradling hold, the steps of his partner still jarring him enough to make his sides throb, not that he’d let on. “Fuck. Fine.” The redhead mumbled, letting himself list so the other man had no issue getting them through doors. “I ain’t carryin’ your ass next time though, you’re heavy as fuck.”

“Bet you will.” Rude responded, not missing a beat even as they stepped through the remains of the front entrance.

“Fuck off. Asshole.” There was a smile in his voice, a huffed laugh of the ridiculousness of it. 


End file.
